


SpitFire

by AmberKellyDarrow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Translations, Bible Quotes, Biblical References, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Everyone's getting PTSD from this, F/M, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gen, Girl pretends to be a guy to be in a war cliché, Historical References, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Slurs, Steve's mom was Scottish, Struggle between Catholicism and Sexuality, WWII era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberKellyDarrow/pseuds/AmberKellyDarrow
Summary: Pilot Officer Darren Ogden joined the Royal Air Force one month after the outbreak of WWII, but Darren is Derryn, a girl impersonating her brother for a chance to defend her county and to fly. Everything is fantastic, and she makes a name for being one of the best pilots Britain has to offer, which is probably why when Steve Rogers comes to her base to put together and train with the newly founded Howling Commandos, she put on the equivalent of babysitting duty, in case something happens, she's been given specific orders to take Steve and his Tag-Along to Iceland.





	1. Birthday

_ July 3 _ _ rd _ _ 1943 _

_ Breakfast was a mash of hushed whispers, someone must have let out that some big-shot American was coming to the base in a few days, I didn’t take much part in the whispering - never liked the Americans too much, though they do have a few good bombers among them they show off too much, almost got me killed a few times. I do know that from a table of especially loud Americans he’s apparently a Captain? I don’t know much, other than everyone was very excited. _

_ I have a Raid-Watch Duty today, thankfully I’ve been assigned back to a SpitFire, maybe I’ll get to go up, it’s been a few days and shooting down a German would be a nice birthday. I still haven’t opened the gift Father sent last week, his letter said it was a birthday gift - I’ll open after the others have gone out or to bed in case it’s another dress.  _

  
  


She put down the pen, closed the small book, folded it back into her civilian shirt and put the whole thing under the mattress. Running a hand through her red hair she grabbed her standard issue jacket and pulled it on then folded her flight jacket folded it under one arm and walked out of the sleeping quarters with her parachute in the other. The sun was above her in the sky and people bustled around, she made her way to her station, most of the last shift was still there, looking as bored as she would be, she was the third from her shift to show up, The-Poupore-Twins had beat her, “There he is! Man of the hour. How’s being 22?” Pilot Officer Brady Poupore was the older looking of the twins mostly because he had a more square jaw, he looked like he was 21. 

“About the same as 21.” She said taking a look to the east side of the base trailing her eyes up to the sky.

“You want to go up today, really. That’s a bit mean, are you that desperate to get away from us?” Bradley was younger looking by a few years, until of course you got to his eyes they had the same look everyone got after you’ve watched a few planes fall into the ocean in a fireball of death, empty, scared and deep down - just as dead as the enemies they shot down.  

“I like being in the air, and not hearing your constant bantering is a nice plus.”

“Our bantering is what keeps you from falling asleep so you don’t get yourself in any extra trouble.” Brady smiled and gave he a slap to her left side, the side she was pretending that she cut open the other week so she could have a reason for the bandages over her chest, or that's what she thought until he grabbed her pistol, “You were right, he did put sweethearts on here, but no photo’s? At  least put you family in there Ogden.”

“Those bullets are my sweetheart though.” Everyone got a laugh from that at least, and it was true she’d made the plexi-glass grips so it would be quicker to know how many shots were left.

Bradley grabbed the pistol from his brother looked over the skyline and shot at a bird, he missed, she grabbed it from his hand, turned around, found one of the rats that had taken to living in the area, and put a bullet through it, a few of the other guys said that she was a show-off when she put the pistol back in it’s holster. She had her back to the most of the base and didn’t notice the heavy footsteps behind her through everyone's joking, she did hear the deep voice when it spoke though.

“Pilot Officer Ogden.” Immediately she turned, and straightened.

“Group Captain Mansfield, Sir.”

“Relax a bit, those rats keep me up half the night. I came to find you because you are not to return to your post after evening meal tonight, you are to come to Air Marshal Wood’s field office at 7 o’clock.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

“And Darren? Have a good birthday, there’s nothing to worry about.” He gave a smile that seemed like he knew more than he let on. What he knew more about was the true question. He walked away.

Darren stood there for a moment, gears turning in her head, sorting and cursing what she had just heard - she was looking forward to that night shift, after all what person would try to raid Britain in broad daylight, she’d thought for a while that Mansfield knew her secret, it wouldn’t take much to find out, a well made call to her family and it was over - they’d probably put her in the loony-bin. That was what happened to that Dorrie woman, or was it Dorothy - she’d snuck her way into the trenches and now she was declared insane, but maybe Mansfield meant something much more straightforward, and that he knew she wasn’t in trouble for something like her kit and had no clue of the secrets she hid under bandages, or know of the falseness in her voice, or newly learned habit of her steps. Than again, maybe he did. “Ogden, still with us?”

“Yes, yes, I’m still here. Just, what would the big wig want with me after dinner?” She started  to mumble to herself.

“No idea, but Brady, Johnna and I went together on a gift for you.” Bradley was holding out a box wrapped in the same brown paper that rations came in. She took it, looking at it with uncertainty, “Go on, it’s not going to bite.” He urged with a smile. That smile did not do much to lessen her unease. Opening things that came from other people had become a stressful experience since joining the military, every letter, every package every everything could be what proves to anyone looking around that she was, well, a she or someone who had figured it out and looking for money or any number of other things - rations or _ favors _ . She knew that if it were from the twins and in broad daylight she shouldn’t be worried about that though and when she opened the paper she found that it was 2 full packs of Luckies and a Zippo. Darren stood in shock, she knew the Airfield's trade prices, the Canadians held the monopoly on Lucky Strikes (a brand they seemed partial to) it was practically 2 for one with Chesterfields (the ones British most often got sent) and as Zippo lighters were American it wasn’t the easiest to get if you weren’t one, and as much as Darren felt the Americans were too loud and was irked by them showing up so late to the war, they made damn good lighters - Zippos were like Enfields. Won’t break even if you try. And wind proof.

“You really shouldn’t have…” She started, she had no hope of getting them anything even close to value, to much of her pay whent home. More then half was wrapped in her letters of lies to her father to read to her siblings and still more was saved for them after the war.

“Dare, you’ve saved us more times then we count on one hand, you deserve a thank you plus we found a Canadian who wanted Chesterfields so it wasn’t to bad. You still like Luckies right?” Brady said smiling, “Keep us kicking until Christmas, and we’ll get you another pack or two.”

Their lives for some free cigarettes, “I’ll try, and you all know lucks are my favorite, but not so much I won’t share.” She took one for herself and held the box out to her friends Bradley took one - he’d smoke anything, and Brady took one - Luckies weren’t his top choice, but he wouldn’t pass up a free smoke. Darren lit the Lucky Strike - the first one she’d  had in weeks as the price was often too much in her small budget, with her new lighter - the first lighter she actually owned and smiled. She sat in the group of her friends, when the cigarette was about half smoked Johnna showed up for the shift she offered him one, knowing that it was probably him the had gotten the Zippo, he had no one who he needed to send his pay to, even the twins sent home part to their mother, he would have been able to give an American enough for a night with a girl who’d swear she was clean. He shoved her hand back, oh yeah, he also had enough to buy his own prefered brand when he got leave - Camels - she remembered.

The day went like most, sitting, waiting, talking, waiting, more waiting, and in total a big pile of nothing. Then dinner and that was nothing special, their station had second dinner, that was how it worked, the were 2 12 hour shifts - midnight to noon and noon to midnight, each shift was divided into 6 stations that ate their meals at different times, that way the base always had  enough protection, and of course you could be told to leave your food and jump into a plane. Dinner was just as uneventful as the after-noon, while her friends made their way back to post for the rest of the night she walked the other direction to Air Marshal Wood’s Field Office.

She pulled back the canvas and walked to the small area inside, Wood sat at his desk he tried to make it look organized, but it really wasn’t the piles of paper hand no order and maps that had no purpose being out were unfolded and half covered by other diagrams that might actually be important or be useless new flight patterns he tried to come up with. He was a great Air Marshal, but had no organization skills for things other then people. There was also Group Captain Mansfield who stood to the right, his face unreadable, and a third man who she only knew she should treat as a superior if she remembered her U.S. insignia crash course.

She stood looking at each of these men, looking to each face for some clue, if she had been found out the American wouldn’t be there, but that didn’t mean she was safe, “Air Marshal Wood, I was told to see you after evening meal, sir.” She tried to sound strong - not terrified, and masculine - not like the 22 year old women she was truly, but only to a very small town in Northern Scotland now. It must have worked enough.

“Pilot Officer Darren Ogden,” The man she didn’t know started, “I’ve read about you, and heard your reputation. You enlisted to the air force a month after the war started, you showed that you could learn quickly and had great skills as a pilot. In the air you work alone as much as you can, but apparently watch like a hawk to keep your side safe, if your plane or another allied plane goes down so does the plane that caused it, but you’ll shoot down a German plane even without direct revenge as your motive, because of this you have been credited to 27 confirmed downs earning you ace 5 times now, but you don’t care in fact you try to avoid being publicised at all costs, any other pilot would be looking for medals and news articles or interviews, but you don’t.” He leafed through a file, she assumed it was about  her. She was getting worried, but the man continued, “You also listed your eight year old sister as your next of kin, now we don’t know why you’ve done any of this, he thinks,” he motioned to Wood, “that you enlisted under the age of eighteen, I think that Alice is actually your daughter and she’s your next of kin so you can help out the mother. It doesn't matter though, I'm sure you’ve heard that a Captain is coming to the base as well as several other men, hand picked by the captain, he’ll be staying for six weeks however The  American Military, though does not doubt his ability to keep care of himself, we would like him to have an escort who will,” he paused, looked down and looked back up, “make sure he gets around alright and can get him out of the base if need arises, you have shoot down a plane in the night with a pistol while still in the air, right?” His first question.

It was true she had, but her plane went down a few minutes after, the German plane went into the ocean and her Spitfire just made it back to land and she ended up walking 3 miles back to the airfield and had to refuse 3 medical examinations, she was on edge for a week hoping that her ribs hadn’t actually been damaged, but that’s not what the man wanted to know, “Yes, sir.”

“Well you have a choice, we are using Captain Steven Rogers to keep moral up, propaganda if you wish as well as a small special team of soldiers, you can have the same done to yourself, become the new face of not only the RAF, but all of the British Army, or stay behind the scenes and be an escort to Captain Rogers, you won’t fly unless there is an emergency, but you will get a private tent that you will share with only two others - Captain Rogers and a close friend named Sergeant Barnes. As well as a pay raise”  Air Marshal Wood had told her the theoretical options, they all knew what she would chose.

“When will Captain Rogers be arriving?” 

“The 6 th of July, he will arrive in the morning until then you may continue your regular shifts, your things will be moved on the fifth.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Group Captain Mansfield, Sergeant Major Wheeler if I could have a  moment with Pilot Office Ogden.” The two Standing men left, once they were gone Wood spoke again, “Darren. I didn’t have much choice.”

“I know.” Sirs gone now that they were alone, Wood was amazed by Darren’s piloting abilities and organizational ones whenever one of his superiors was visiting, they had made a friendship over the past few years.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s six weeks, I’ll live, and my ribs could use some time off.”  Six weeks would drive her insane, but the bruises and cuts patterning over her torso really could do with some time to fully heal without another layer being put on.

“I got you something, you should have claimed a 6 th   ace by now, you know that right?” He shoved two small brown packages tied with twine to her, she picked it up, it wasn’t bundled with ration paper like the ones from earlier, it was proper packing paper, she pulled the twine and unfolded the top package - another box of Lucky Strikes, she smiled, 3 boxes would last a while especially when her friends had no clue about the third box she opened the second package - a small leather book, she opened it the inside cover read ‘Property of Darren Ogden’ the pages were blank - a sketching book, a well made one at that.

“Thank you, it’s,” She looked at him, then the book then him again, “amazing.”

“Your drawings are very good, you could very well live off them when this is over.”

“Sometimes I forget that it will be over someday.”

“But it will.”

“Yes, yes it will.” She wondered if she still believed that, or if it was only another lie.

“You don’t want someone else to move your things, do you?”

“No.”

“The morning of the fourth, your new tent will be at the north end of the sleeping domes, now go run back to your quarters, then back to your shift; Britain still has you for a few more days.”

She left calmy like a soldier should walk, giving him a tiny smile before leaving, but once outside the tent she sprinted to her barracks - the fifth semicircle log out of 20 on the right side of the base, then the fourth bed on the left, she placed the book under her pillow and the cigarettes in the small case under her bed. She decided that she would open her father's present after her move, she’d have more privacy there and it felt so much like clothes. Clothes no soldier should have.

She went back to her shift, and was asked every question possible about her meeting, and no alarms blared and soon people were coming for the midnight to noon shift, and when they went pretty tired back to their barracks still no Germans dared come to near the Airfield, but Darren was still hopeful to get back in the air before her six week bar from the air.

 

~~~

 

On the morning of the fifth she took her few things - the spare underclothes and binding bandages she had, letters, journal, previous drawings made mostly on random scraps of paper, the gifts her father had sent her that she had torn into bandages, and kit. Mansfield was in the tent, waiting, he was the one who would fill her in on the remaining details of her new job.

The tent was huge, it was half the size of one barracks building and her area was larger then the amount of space she had back home, a semi-private changing area was to the right of the entrance her bed was to the right, the Captain's was behind hers and the Sergeant's across from the Captain's. Her job was pretty simple, Captain Steven Rogers was staying at the airfield working on a cohesive team for ‘an unforeseen enemy’, she would accompany him, keep him out of trouble and hide him back in the tent then notify Sergeant Major Wheeler ‘If anything out of place or concerning happens to the Captain’ she had no clue what odd or concerning meant, but figured she’d know when it happened. There was also a three person plane that she was to pilot if the field ever went to ‘all hands’ in other words if the base was ever going to be seriously damaged or destroyed. When she asked where they were meant to go, he looked at her and in all seriousness something that made her realize that Captain Steven Rogers was much more than just a captain - Reykjavik take him and Barnes to Reykjavik. She was to take two people and herself to Iceland if England became unsafe. And that part of her job was not to be told to the rest of her shift, no one was meant to know about the 3 person plane, no one was to know that something could go wrong with the Captain.

She went to her station - it was almost noon after all and she still had one more shift to get in the air. This time she couldn’t answer some of the questions her friends asked. The afternoon was same as always waiting, waiting and more waiting with a side of waiting, then dinner in the huge mess hall and back out for more waiting.

“Knock.” Johnna said after looking looking at his hand for a second. The last light of day was left as the sun went down and most of Darren’s station were playing a game of 31, as always when 9 of them were playing after ‘knock’ was called and everyone had their last turn they moved down in points from 30 until someone had the hand if two people had the same hand the round went to suits - hearts, spades, diamonds, and lowest clubs. Brady won the round, becoming dealer, another hand was dealt and another hand was won, and so on until the alarms went off, hands were thrown back into the center and feet scrambled to their planes, voices shouted, - four bombers headed for what looked like Felixstowe, they were two miles off, the Airfield was one. Darren put on the last of her equipment and was one of the first to be leaving the base along with The Twins, her plane was higher and farther forward soon others joined  as they found the enemy planes, just as promised 4 bombers, headed into England and the two forces meet just at the edge of land, however there was one more plane then planed it was moving faster, it seemed the Germans sent an unbombed plane to try to protect the bombers, it was turning back, Darren went to that one, one of the bombers was already back and falling into the English Channel they were doing fine and in their little group it was her job to get the sneaky ones anyway. She followed back into the water she got a half decent shot with one of the wing guns, the plane fired back and the dance began she forced them to move northeast away from both countries and soon both planes found they were damaged - Darren circled high and shot around the plane until she saw the telltale flash and the gas tank was ignited and hurried her own plane back to the main fight, the rest of her shift were making their way back to base, and Darren followed behind keeping eye for any other last minute visitors when she was about a quarter mile inland the right wing gave out and the plane started to steadily fall, she let herself get as close to the ground as safely possible and jumped out.

She fell quickly freefalling for a second before pulling the parachute cord and it yanked her up falling slower she held the straps - parachutes were not made for the small chests of women even if you alter it.  She drifted into a tree as morning light started to show, but drifted wasn’t quite right fell abruptly slicing her left cheek open, that would be right, once she got untangled and dropped from the tree she knew that the back of her uniform was torn and the parachute looked beyond repair she pulled it from the tree anyway, it would be used for something in the war effort and started the walk back.

 

She returned to the field around 10 and found the medic tent, she sighed and let them look her over without taking her uniform off and asked for the dressings so she could put them on herself she headed to her old Barracks one last time to make sure everyone else was still there, they were, then to her new tent where she washed off her wounds, rebound her chest she cleaned off a gash on her leg and wrapped it put on her pants again started on the gash over her cheek, the doctor was right she’d need stitches, he had reluctantly given her a stitch kit several months ago and so after rubbing some alcohol swabs over it she started the uncomfortable process of sewing herself. She’d done it on her leg chest and arm before, however doing it on her face in a mirror was by far the worst.

 

~~~

 

Steve had given a speech to a few of the Americans and around noon he decided he should find the person who was meant to watch him while at the base, the Military was  worried that the effects of the serum weren’t permanent or because of the serum he was a giant target for the enemy, they found him a British Pilot who would - well he called it being his nanny they called it gard protection, he had a name and was told they had a separate tent because of his status, the airfield was messing with his sense of direction. He couldn’t find that tent for his life he walked over to a few Pilot Officers who were sitting in a circle some were playing a game of cards while another was reading the newspaper out loud, “Excuse me, do any of you know where I may find Pilot Officer Ogden?” He asked. They all looked up a few smiled and a couple stared at him.

One with slightly red, but closer to brown hair and a hand of cards looked across to another guy, “Is this the Captain?”

The second looked him over, “Insigna says so, why does this  _ American _ need Dread more then Britain.”

The first responded, “Don’t know looks like this one should be the sitter though.”

Steve was still stuck, why had they called the pilot Dread, “Is that what you call Officer Ogden ‘Dread’?”

The man reading the newspaper gave answer, he looked a lot like the second one,  “You are new. Dread holds more field records then anyone wants to admit, he seeks revenge on any plane that gets a shot at his own, watches the rest of us as much as possible so none of us go down, he’s shot down 32 planes, records will tell you less, but truthfully it’s been 32, one time his plane had to crash in a field, sure enough that poor officers plane was sent into a tree, before the guy could do anything Dread got a bullet in his leg and was being dragged back here - the german that is. He didn’t have any useful information, but shooting someone in the right leg and dragging them 2 kilometers isn’t something most of us can boast.”

The first guy looked up at Steve, “Ever shot a plane down in the dark with a pistol?”

“No.”

Second finished, “He has three times. How about giving yourself stitches?”

“Can’t say I have.”

First came back, “Can’t say how many times he’s done that one, but it is gross as all hell to watch. I’ve also seen him fish a bullet out of his leg while sitting next to a doctor perfectly capable of removing it, Darren doesn't exactly like other people taking care of him or losing, he terrifies even us sometimes, so he’s made a few nicknames.” 

“How come I’ve never heard any of this?”

“He has an irrational fear of people knowing about what he’s done. We think it’s because he’s actually too young, by a lot, you know enlisted when he was fifteen, and worried that if he makes the papers his dad’ll make him leave, swears he’s 22, but he has one of those faces, looks fourteen half the time. Either way he’s probably in in the private tent he’s been granted because of you, it’s at that end of the bunk houses.” He pointed to the left. Steve thanked them unsure now about this Darren who he was going to be sleeping next to for the next six weeks, but his feet still carried them to the pale canvas tent he assumed was the right one.    

  
  



	2. Meet and Greet

Seven neat, even stitches lined Darren’s left cheek like little soldiers standing at attention, she looked in the small mirror, she took  a piece of cloth, once part of a very nice blouse - Christmas - dipped it in some water and wiped at the blood beading at a few of the puncture spots from the stitches. Grounded for six weeks, this wasn’t what she signed up for, if she had wanted to take care of a U.S. solider she would have joined the BlueBirds, but she wanted to be in the public eye even less. She sighed at the mirror, raked her hand through her hair, and walked to her bed. She sat with her back to the slit in the canvas and slid the  package onto her lap, a piece of rough twine tied the previously used paper, she remembered for a moment her previous birthdays, her gift would come in a box, tied with a ribbon - blue, yellow, green once, twice when she was older it was pink, once at her request - pink was against feminine norm and she liked that, and the last gift before the war pink as well though now it was feminine and fashionable, she would use that ribbon in her hair or a belt or almost anything that one could use a ribbon for and some things you probably shouldn’t. She would open the box, with nimble fingers lift the lid, run her fingers over the soft brightly colored fabric, lift it, look at, sometimes there would be another gift under it, journal or sketchbook or pens, smile, exclaim her joy and hug her father. Then there would be cake, one of the neighbors wives would make it, her father could cook, but his baking was abysmal.

Now it came in brown paper and rough rope, there was no cake and no hugs, a new dress was the last thing she wanted and be there would be no ribbon to elaborately braid into her hair before school, or before she left for the bible class she helped with each tuesday, she didn’t have enough hair to braid now. Now she untied the twine and unrolled the paper with scarred and slightly calloused hands.

The dress was utility four, in a light powder blue and looking at it she felt as though she would cry. She would cry because of all the lies she had told her family, because they were working on the farm using the money she sent home for black market sugar and cheese, they had taken that little money and put it into buying her a total of five dresses that she had reduced to binding and rags, and she found in that moment  that she would not  destroy this one, Wood’s words from their meeting echoed in her mind, telling her that one day this would all be over, one day she would need to go home wouldn’t she? Yes, war can not go on forever, and she certainly couldn’t show up on her father's doorstep in uniform, she was unsure if she would ever even tell him the truth. She resolved to fold the dress as small as she could wrap it in the paper again, tie it closed and put it in the bottom of her footlocker. And that was what she did.

She was closing the heavy key lock on the footlocker  when Steve opened the tent, “Pilot Officer Ogden?”

“Yes,” She turned quickly, surprised by the voice for a moment, it was unfamiliar, deep and masculine, toned confident, but underlying there was something else, “You must be  Captain Rogers.” She stood, cracked a quick yet welcoming grin and held out her hand.

He took a few awkward steps forward, his stride looked oddly small for his height, and he took her hand almost to strongly, then to lightly, “It’s good to meet you finally, Wheeler hasn’t stopped talking about you for the past week. I was starting to think he had lost his mind and dreamt you up entirely.” He laughed nervously for a moment before realising he was still holding Darren’s hand with a grip similar to a sleeping cat’s bite. He pulled his hand way, clasping his hands behind his back before he could make things any worse.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, though I’ve been kept pretty in the dark about you.” She smiled again, this man, who had been shrouded in mystery before was becoming, somehow more interesting, “Being your escort I was so graciously given the first bed, take your choice of the other two.” Darren nodded her head  in the direction of the remaining two untouched beds.

Steve stood for a moment looking at the beds weighing his options, he knew  he should probably take the one in the corner on the other side - it would be safer, but James who was out in the nearest city at the moment would sleep better in the corner, where he would feel more closed in and it would be slightly darker. Steve on the other hand felt a primal need to see the  door to the room he was in. “I think this  one where  can see the door.”

“Go for it, it’s your death wish. Would you like me to grab on of your bags.”

“No, Thank you though.” Steve threw a soft pack over his shoulder with ease and picked up his trunk with the other, and again took his odd shamble of a walk to the bed. The trunk was stamped seven ways to sunday with travel labels, U.S. Military marks, and several name stamps. The bag had  only two paint stamps and a sewn possession label. The trunk went on the floor  at the and of  the bed the bag on top.

“So did you get those legs yesterday, Captain Rogers.” Darren said  walking back to where she was sitting before.

“Not quite, Officer.” Steve said the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Call me Steve.” He added releasing six weeks of  Captain Rogers would actually make him lose his marbles.

“Only if you call me Darren.”

“What about  your nicknames.”

“I can say I enjoy them too much.”

“If it means anything the wigs back home want to brand me as  _ Captain America. _ ”


	3. Eat With Thine Enemy

“Yer meals are with me and my old shift, you got ya meal book?” Darren asked pulling her’s from her pillow case. She still had no idea where Sergeant Barnes was, nor did she care all that much, Steve was meant to be on a day long leave and she could only figure Barnes was actually taking his, probably trying to charm some factory girl to some dancing tonight.

Steve figured he had something that sounded as important as a meal book, but he also had about 5 different ration books, he opened his soft pack, picked out anything that could be a ration book and fanned them in front of Derren, “Which one’s the meal book?” he asked,  her eyes got wide as she scanned the small stapled books before she grabbed them, instantly turning her back to him.

He had all his necessary, normal books; ‘ _ enlisted men's’ clothing’, ‘public water allotments’, ‘soaps and other enlisted mens’ goods’ _ , but his meal book was the very rare two-toned double rations type, the type given to the very ill, the rescued POWs, those only in the most strenuous of work, there were maybe a few thousand in the whole of the country. Darren’d only seen them a few times and not in the hands of very fit,  _ American _ , military Captains doing song and dance shows.

She pulled he foot locker out and unlocked the top while Steve looked on in confusion as Darren rummaged through the box, grabbed a pile of papers looked at both papers and the ration book.

Steve watched for about a minute, several times he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but closed it not knowing what to ask. Finally she stood “This isn’t the right ration book, I’ll get it fixed in the morning, you can have my evening meal, I had two hot meals and a ration pack today.”

“What’s wrong with the book?”

“It’s  an infirmary book, they won’t serve you in the mess hall, in fact they’ll probably arrest you for illegal use of coupons.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth.

“Arrest me?” Steve said a bit shocked, there was no humor in Darren's eyes’.

“Yes, they caught this one person from my old bunk house trying to use the infirmary book of a deadman, 40 pound fine and 6 months imprisonment.” She said shuffling things back into place and turning away

“I’ll fix it later.” Darren said walking out of the tent, gears whirling in her head about Captain Rogers, wondering just what he was. And who’s side he was really on, Steve stumbled out after her, still not quite used to his new legs, or apparently British Rationing.

“I don’t want to take your food, I’m the one without a book.” Steve said taking awkward jogging steps to keep up with the semi lurching semi marching steps of Darren.

“Field Rations are practically a day's worth of food, plus it was egg day at breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, but he was starving, it seemed he was alway hungry now, but he hadn’t had much else than some toast hours ago today to begin with.

“Last I checked I’m meant to take care of you.”

 

~~~

Steve saw why Darren had so easily given up his diner, he was trading things around, before Steve worked up the courage to try the gelatinous hunk of meat on his tray Darren had a respectable plate of unwanted vegetables. Steve also learnt what was currency here, cigarettes. With only - from Steve’s count, seven cigarettes Darren had two potatoes a serving of carrots and a portion of someone's gelatinous meat. He ate quickly, dousing everything with pepper and eating almost grotesquely. Steve ignored the meat and ate his potatoes and carrots  trying to match Darren and the rest of the people at the table’s speed, he finally had nothing left but the meat, he took a small piece and tried it. It tasted like nothing and felt like half cooked pork fat, he swallowed and leaned over slightly to Darren, “What type of meat is that.”

“Whale, they cut it to big rectangles put it in a tray and cook it, not my favorite way to get it but better than snoek.”

Steve didn’t even want to know snoek is, he looked back to the whale meat, but before he had to try to down anymore someone tapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll give you three fags and me carrots for ‘at.”

Steve wasn’t sure what a fag was but he’d take anything over the texture of pork fat. “Okay.” The other man quickly hooked the meat with his fork, poured a pile of that night's boiled carrots on his tray and three cigarettes placed in his hand. Steve smoked before, one of his doctors prescribed it for his asthma, he found it just made his heart palpitations worse and stopped after a week. He ate his carrots, and dropped the cigarettes in his pocket, everyone ate quickly and were talking, on end of the mess hall was particularly loud group of men and at the end of his table were a few men who looked nearly asleep, Darren was talking to  a small group of men, the same ones he’d asked for directions, he found himself joining conversation and then the card game in the semi dark afterwards, as it got later he began to wonder if Bucky had made it back to the base since he opted for a tour of the nearby town for the day and he  had gotten lost about four times in the daytime with good instructions.

~~~

Darren waited until Steve said something about the time before she suggested going back for the night and once they were within their canvas home, she began to leave for Wood’s tent, not caring if he was asleep already. When she left Steve said nothing though she did feel his gaze and wondered if she had let her guard down to much with her new found privacy, perhaps with only two people being with you all day you had less privacy than when you slept next to a hundred men.

The grass was already damp in the cool night air and midnight was an odd time on the base, it was shift change, the place was alive with people, but nearly void of light from anything but the moon, and though people walked around her the time still held a certain eerie quality, like at home when one of the animals was going to birth, or her younger siblings would be sick and she would go out on the porch in the cool air and stare out to the barn and field and cry because she just wanted her mom there to tell her how to make Ed’s cough go or what she could give the twin goats whose mother just died during birth and Pa was a day's travel away at a farm auction. There was something isolating about the time, she didn’t bother warning Wood of her arrival, just pushed on the canvas and when it opened she walked in, he was hunched over his desk scribbling away one some paper, she drooped the two tone ration books on the desk uncertainty, crossed her arms than reminded herself to cross them higher on her chest, “Wood you're going to tell me just what that Captain is, because no one who can stand should have these ration books, and forgive me if’m wrong, but if someone here needs protection from the Krauts it’s me, not some pile of muscle seppo.” He looked up, whent to reach for the books, but didn’t. 

Wood folded his hands on his desk and for a moment they had a silent standoff, eventually he sighed, “I’m not even meant to know about this,” He started, looking at Darren, she offered no sympathy or signs of backing down, “Captain Rogers was part of an experiment to make the perfect man, the perfect soldier, there were some,” He paused, not good with science and unsure if he should have told the truth, though now he guessed it was too late, “complications with the program, the Yanks aren’t sure if the effects will last, and the Krauts have apparently already made several attempts on his life. For all it counts he needs the food or he becomes entirely useless, head pains and fainting spells, and he does or did have just about every condition needed to get these ration books.”

“Why didn’t they tell me this.”

“They aren’t very trusting, I only know because I pushed, just like you are right now.”

“I nearly shot him as a traitor when I saw the books, does the mess know about his conditions?”

“Yes, they aren’t happy about it, you know they’ll be putting double portions on a tray while they eat cold food on basic rations.”

“Sir?” She questioned, sure of trusting Wood now, but not the Americans.

“Yes, Ogden?”

“Do I know all the secrets of the man I share a tent with?”

“You know all I do now, yes.”

“Very well,” She started, picking up the ration books, ‘do tell the Americans that if he gives me another reason to think him a traitor to our side I will be his person judge, jury, and executioner.”

She left the tent suddenly tired from the day, she found it odd, she done least and been awake less even than any day she could remember not only since joining up, but even back home.


	4. Nancy

James Buchanan Barnes walk through the town, nowhere had the classic signs of being his type of bar, nor any of the three cat houses, he stayed at  one of the bars fairly late anyway with a few men on day leave from the base and getting back with them in a locals truck bed, the men were nice enough to show him the way to what they were pretty sure to be his tent. He pulled back the canvas and saw Steve on a bed, and a man sitting on another across from him, the floor was grass except for some planks under the beds, to his right he saw a haphazard sectioned off area with a mirror and two crates with  a bowl on top of them, “Better than the barracks I’ve been in.” He grumbled before Steve saw him.

“Look who decide to join us.” He said, “Darren, this is Sergeant James Barnes of the 107 th Infantry Regiment.” Steve, Darren noticed seemed delighted for the first time that day.

Darren turned, resting a cigarette on her leg, it wasn’t one of her Luckies, it was one of the three Steve traded his meat for, which she had told him was a terrible deal, even with the nearly cold carrots that were part of the deal, and even worse of a trade when he forced her to take them as payment for her dinner coupons, it was still good though, and she had been enjoying it. Barnes looked the Americans she was used to, too confident, once a day shavers who would end up killing her with their need to show off one of these days. The man walked over, no ‘just learned to walk’ in his steps and held out his right hand, Darren stood grasped it and introduced herself, he introduced himself again, calling himself Bucky. She pointed to the far side of the room if you wanted to call this a room, where an untouched bed lay, “If you don’t want that one, you’ll need to take up with Blondie.”

“It’s fine, further from the door the better for me.”

Steve was surprised Buck admitted it, then he remembered they were in a war, not back home, and people wanted him dead or captured, the whole the Axis Powers wanted them all dead, of course saying you wanted to be away from the door was acceptable here.

Then Darren laughed, “I’d rather get out, you're more likely to get burned to  a crisp from some halfwit Micky leaving a fag unstamped than a Kraut to walk in with a gun.”

“What if they bomb us?” Bucky tried, it sounded like he was trying it as a joke and Darren kept the mood with a morbid one of her own. An ill-timed joke with the successful bombing two days prior, but a joke.

“Don’t think you can hide from a bomb by sitting in the corner.” She wondered if they knew the evacuation plan, the weird high-tech plane, she wondered if the weird plane was even from her side of the war, it must be though, she reasoned, Iceland was used as a stop point for the Canadians, and already this  Bucky was oozing American in a way she doubted a Kraut could fake. Bucky walked, confident and sure with his two bags to the third bed her put them both on the floor and pushed them under with his foot, he turned back to the other two and looked Darren over. She didn’t worry too much and sat down to write back to her journal entry for the day, she wasn’t sure why she kept  journal, but she had since she could remember, her mother and grandmother kept a journal, and Alice kept one as well now, either way, she wrote about the weather and  Steve’s odd ration book.

Bucky stripped down to his skivvies and found his way to the small private area of the tent, there he found a small mirror on a 2 by 4 nailed onto of two stacked crates with a metal bowl on them and a bucket of water on the ground with a rag on the handle. He put the rag in the water and squeezed it into the bowl and scrubbed his hands in it, he felt now better, he decided now he didn't feel grime in the lines of his palms and probably the best cleaning he would get at nearly two in the morning, he walked back.

_ If I word this right nothing terrible can happen  _  Barnes thought as he sat on the end of the bed, there were about eight feet to Steve’s bed and the was a good five feet between Steve and Darren, “Ogden?”

“Yes, Barnes?” last names now

“If one were looking for,” he stopped for a moment, wondering now just what wording to use, “If one wanted to pick some pansies, how would he go about that?” It wasn’t great and when the man in question half snorted, Bucky felt ready to run for the surrounding farm and be labeled a deserter.

“If ya want flowers I can’t much help you, though if yer looking for the Airfield's Nancy, I can,” The man looked at Barnes, checking that the communication had been understood, “tie a blue rag to the right side a’ ya trousers.”

Darren went back to the journal and took a drag from the cigarette, finishing the entry from the day and turning to one of the blank pages and started to draw the familiar lines of home, the vertical line of the corner two thirds from the left side of the page and moving back in her mind's eye from there, “You do got somefink blue, don’t ya?” She asked.

“Oh, yea, so there's a couple...” He trailed off.

“Dozen or so, you smoke?” She talked around the smoke in the corner of her mouth and held the second of Steve’s cigarettes between the tips of her index and middle fingers.

“Yes, thank you.” Barnes got off the far bed and took the smoke, lighting it with a zippo and sitting next to Steve, this close Darren noticed the gold glinting, and detailed looking crucifix Bucky wore, to her it screamed Catholic, no proper Protestant would wear something so elaborate, but tonight was not the time for religious discussion, instead the three talked of other things, family, home, what they’ve done so far in the war, Darren again talked about her accomplishments with brushing it off, allowing herself to feed off the Americans interest and astonishment. The sun was nearly on the horizon when they finally laid down, though time had no effect, the tent had nothing to act as a window to the outside, inside that canvas square things seemed to be different for the three soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A journal entry and the avatars I use as reference can be found at fb.me/AmberKellyDarrow.


	5. Tigger, Vomit, Rags, and Toast

The next day if one wanted to call it that as it had been sunrise when they had lain down for the night, and to James, Darren seemed much to cheery or at the very least normal for someone who’d gotten about 3 hours of rest even the rest of the 107 th were never this awake yet the slim man was all but bouncing around the tent already nearly dressed for the day in his Royal Bird Blues when he woke up Steve and himself telling them ‘Nosh in as half’ before shaking his jacket quiet roughly in hopes it would be presentable after crumpling on the floor for several hours.

James rolled himself out of the bed he felt weird, having gotten used to sleeping in large groups, now only surrounded by two others it felt uncomfortably large, he pulled on his pants and boots still in a half asleep stupor and staggered to the wash bucket with a rag and washed his face, he rubbed his cheek and decided it was fine still without needing a shave in the morning.

He walked back to  his bed and pulled on an undershirt,  then the rest of his uniform and he watched Steve stumble in his skivvies in to the  curtains,  his gaze lingering on the perfect body that now held Steve Rogers, who had quite unfortunately broken up with him shortly before Barnes left after enlisting, Steve however was only the lumbering  example of human perfection until he quickly lurched halfway out the tent and proceeded to vomit over the grass. Once he returned, washed  and was halfway dressed, Darren asked if they’d be getting a stork visit during his stay, he laughed and told the soldier that he’d been getting sick in the mornings since he was small not a lie, but just leaving out the fact before it was because he was dieing albeit slowly ands now it’s his body’s reaction to the serum, he wondered if Darren knew, was told about the serum, he wondered how he could explain it if Darren pressed him. Cross the bridge when you get to was what steve decided pulling his arm through the second sleeve of his jacket as James tied an old rag to the side of his pants. 

The left, Darren leading them around the Airfield in a zigzagging pattern telling them it was the fastest route, they passed several men who James noticed also having a blue rag on their right and after breakfast when everyone was talking and Steve was still trying to finish his toast, not used to the fast eating and excited talking of mealtimes James asked if it was safe to assume everyone with a blue rag on their right were as he put it there ‘spending nights with Nancy’ Darren confirmed and when everyone started to leave Darren asked if they’d like to play cards with her old shift. They did and it wasn’t long before James noticed the rag hanging off one of Darren's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See little updates on all my works on Facebook, Amber Kelly Darrow, very similar profile pics.


	6. To War We Send Our Sons

The game was poker and waged with what else than - cigarettes, Steve was starting to notice a pattern, he watched Darren and Bucky play for a while and listened to someone read a newspaper, he watched the dynamics between Darren and the rest, he was friendly with them all through appeared to favor a core group, as they joked around and the five of them shared their winnings, Steve wasn’t good at the game, Bucky had tried to teach him a couple times, but he never quite got it,  he stood up and started to walk back to the tent, “You know where yer goin’, Rogers?” Darren asked still looking at his cards as Steve passed him, Steve responded with a noise reassurance walking the line of grey metal  bunk houses, dulled slightly from the weather he still wished he could be in one of them, accepted as a regular soldier rather than a propaganda piece. 

He thought of what he was also doing at the airfield, he’d been given a chance to fight for real, given choice of a couple dozen of the best of the best to make a team and fight that odd branch the axis he’d discovered - Hydra they’d been called, Bucky would of course be with him, reading though the files he’d been given he had his eyes one a couple others, a frenchman for one. Perhaps he could get Darren, he seemed a decent enough solider, and if half of what they said about him were true, well Steve was more than thankful he was on his side, the tent didn’t look out of place per-say many captains and higher ranks had these tents as offices and often homes, but Steve didn’t like it, he went through everything because he wanted to be a soldier, stand amongst the mass of uniformed men he saw in the ad’s that played before movies, what he was doing now was of course better than dancing in the USO show, and holding random babies, when he was walking back, little book of random papers and pencil in hand, one of the air raid alarms went off and he felt useless, running back to where he last saw Darren and his friends, not knowing what to do exactly, but knowing that it was most likely nothing helpful to the cause. He got to Darren, but her friend were already all but one gone,  the last sprinting across the field and all but vaulting himself into the cockpit of a plane, and taking off after about a dozen others, Steve stood next to Darren, Bucky was on his other side as they watched, following the little dots that were the planes,  Bucky made the sign of the cross, mumbling something in Latin, Darren put his hand over his crucifix, eye’s trained on the planes muttering a “Father, bring my boys back safe and Mother Mary to bring them the joys of family to ward of memory once they do.”

“What do we do now?” Steve asked once the dots were gone and Darren had stopped his incessant staring, as if watching them would be enough to keep them safe.

“You know the procedure for all hands, don’t you.” There was the tiniest grin as he said that, Steve however read it as he would be going to Iceland today.

“Yes.”

“Than we wait for them to come back or news that another group of planes need to go out, if they do, that’s when we leave.” He still watched the sky. Steve knew that he couldn’t see those planes, his own eyesight was perfect now, so much that he often caught himself staring at the leaves on a tree or pebbles on the ground in amazement.

“Where are we going.” Barnes asked, and Steve realized that Bucky must not have been informed, he knew the plane could take them all he’d made sure of that sometime ago.

“Iceland, the Canucks use it as a stop point for most of their ships, gives the men least adept to the water a break, and help avoid the death pit. If the airfield goes, I take you there in some  sort of weird plane, it’s meant to have the same controls of a Spitfire, so I can fly the thing at least. I’ve no clue what happens after that.”

 

It was tense, the air had changed, and felt almost cold, most of the Pilot officers were gone, it should be half, but there’s always a few off from that, Darren set to work organizing the cards, cigarettes had been snatched up when the sirens started, but the card could go to the wind, he put the cards, newspapers, and a book undeu one of the chairs, looked to the horizon once again, whispered a ‘be safe’ and started to walk back through the buildings and tents, passed the bunk houses, Steve and BUcky following, “There’s no good to come from standing in the open while  there's Krauts out.” He said  going back to the tent they called home. Sitting on one his bed and pulling out his worn bible, and began to look over passages marked with little pieces of cloth.


	7. What is Home?

The planes returned before supper, and the rest of the week went smoothly, playing cards, and eating together in a large group, Steve read through  about half the pile of perspective team members and listened to the stories told by those around him, those who had seen real combat, Darren ended up being a translator to both general British slang and the hybrid created by the hodgepodge of men stationed at the airfield. James started talking to Darren’s friend Jonah, and if he came  back from rubbing each other off and watching Jonah scurry away in shame, before Darren was asleep they would have long muttering conversations about the others religion. Taking interest in the tiniest of differing details, James had for the most part left the Catholic churches of his childhood in physical presence. He could still repeat the latian he knew only roughly the meaning to, and held to many of the teachings. “The disciples did not chew on Jesus’s hand, nor cut him to lap his blood.”

“His prayer changed them into his flesh, the son was not just the body of Jesus.” 

“The son in entirety took the form of Jesus, that’s why he had to pray in a bloody garden and grew like a normal baby.”

The conversations would go on much like this for sometime until Steve would tell them to stop. Darren still didn’t enjoy being grounded, her diary opened with a countdown to when she could go back to being a normal soldier.

~~~

“Darren, what’s a Seepoo?” Steve called into the tent, he knew he was in the tent, but not on his bed, must be in the curtain. Darren didn’t mind talking through the thin barrier, or telling him what the slang terms he heard ment, but did enjoy his privacy.

He heard light chuckling from the corner, “Do you mean seppo?” Darren responded, she was currently contracted to looking at the bruise from her bindings on her back, thinking of weather she could get away with not wearing them for a couple days with her new sedentary lifestyle; she woke up past dawn, and besides following Steve around and telling him the unfortunate definition of seppo she did nothing, she did more on the farm at age eight than she did in the military during a war.

“I’d guess I do.” Steve said, walking to his bed. Bucky was gone, he caught him and that Antler kid once, 3 years his own junior, and 5 Buck’s, but he wanted to hold true to his statements, to breaking off. He didn’t like Antler, the kid hated himself a little more every time he went with James, it wasn’t healthy to have that much self loathing in one person.

“It’s short for septic, septic tank really, it’s used towards Americans as a way of saying you’re shit. Someone call you it?” Darren asked as she rebound her binding, a bit looser than usual, pulled her undershirt on and shirt over it and started for her cot.

“When I went to talk to another perspective teammate, it was amongst other vulgar words.” He managed to smile at least.

“I take it he’ll not be working with you.” She pulled out a saved piece of paper and began scratching out those so familiar lines.

“No, no he won’t. So is that home?” He asked pushing the past subject aside and pointing to the quickly forming house. Steve knew almost nothing about Darren, and from asking around, outside of military accomplishments and rumors no one else seemed to either.

“I’m not a child, it is my home though.” He answered, already defensive, but Steve decided to press foreword.

“Where is it.”

“Up in Scotland, little past the border, the house was built by my great-grandfather, the lands been under Ogden for 6 generations now, it was Brùn, for about three before that, Great-great-great-great-Grandparents, just had one daughter, she married a traveling man from further south after running the farm on her own for three years and convinced him to stay. It’s still talked about in town, most women when they’re unwed and orphaned like that, they get themselves married quick or they end up in some city doing terrible things for a quid, but not her. My Seanmhair used to tell me, ‘ Tha am Brùnach faisg air fir’.”

“You know Gaelic?” Steve asked interested even more.

The man across from him started to laugh, “That’s what you got from that? I got my Gaelic before I got The King’s English.”

“All I got after my Gaelic was some American.” 

“What have you got to call home once this is all over.” Darren asked with the eyes of a man who’d been in the war long enough, looking into Steve’s who’d barely just gotten to the war.

“An apartment back in Brooklyn.”

“You got anyone waiting for you?” He asked and Steve was starting to see why no one knew anything about Darren while he was an endless well of information.

“My Dad died in the first war, my Mom got TB about 7 years back, who’s running the farm?”

“I’ve got my Pa, two brothers, and two sisters, they're all up there, the one brother’s in a bomb factory, both sisters in ration packing.”

“And your Mom?”

“Mum died a couple hours after my little sister was born, we named her Alice after her.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve said, now that he was getting information he almost didn’t want it.

“I’ve still got Pa and a couple Aunts for good measure.”

“You have a girl back home too?”

“Not quite.” 

Up went the defenses again, and Steve started to wonder if perhaps Darren’s issue was to do with blue rags, “Barnes and I were together back before he was shipped out.”

“You weren’t shipped out together?”

“No he got in on his first try, I actually tried to enlist 5 times.”

“And how’d you get in then?”

Steve realized again that the conversation was on him and this time there was nowhere to spin it back to Darren, “The doctor who did the tests found me and dragged my twig-ass to basecamp.”


	8. The Burning Crucifix

It felt wrong with it, and he felt almost worse without it. It was stranger still though when he would catch a glimpse of James’s glinting off some light, he wore his, Jonah didn’t know if he should be happy for James or worry for his place in the afterlife.

James himself was a good bit excited, having convinced Steve and Darren to go into the town for a couple hours, giving him the tent and Jonah to himself until Shift Switch when Jonah could slip out with no one being any wiser in the rush of movement.

Most of the superiors knew about the terribly obvious code of blue rags, but according to  Darren, ‘They got more to worry about than what some men do in their off time, and it keeps them from having’ a go with some good time girl and gettin’ su’sor’a’ VD.’ apparently so long as one don’t  go shouting about it no one would bat an eye, ‘they need every hand they can get here anyway, don’ want their much more a’ well trained men i’a cell.’

wondering if he liked a Derren who joked around.

As people milled around after dinner Jonah slipped away from his usual group and up to the north bunkhouses, then a bit further to the khaki coloured canvas tent, he stopped for a moment before pulling it open and going inside.

James was there, off-moss-green undershirt and darker pants, he liked the American uniforms, the skivvies showed so much less dirt and wear, “Darren’s gone?” He asked again, it was weird, it was still somewhat light out and he could hear someone walking around outside.

“Steve too.” James said a bit of a chuckle, walking over to tie the ‘door’ of the tent, tightly, and double checking each knot before returning to where Jonah was standing, pulling his arm around his back. Resting his hand, palm flat in between Jonah’s shoulder blades. He leaned his head down to the smaller man, catching his lips. Jonah’s hands moved to his chest and started to drift lower, popping the button of the taller’s fly to better pull out the rest of James’s half tucked shirt and lifted it up, James broke the kiss to lift his arms, it was as he was on his toes stealing a kiss of his own he noticed that his shirt was unbuttoned and shrugged his off as he threw them to the nearest bed.

James’s hands were resting on his upper side  and waist. Jonah pushed his forehead into his chest, inhaling the scent, it wasn’t the first time with a man, or really even James, “What do you want to do, doll? You get to lead me, okay?”

Jonah exhaled before sinking to his knees, pulling at the waist of James’ pants, cocking a grin the best he could looking up at James. Gold glinting in his eye, a pushing feeling heavy weight at his neck, Jonah looked to what he was doing with James’ pants.

He could feel James’ nails in his scalp and the cool ground on his knees. Each time James moaned as he moved his head he found that his pants were increasingly uncomfortable, he dropped one hand from where it was on the brunettes hip to pull at his belt. He had shoved his belt down, pulling himself from his pants, grazing his fingers lightly over his cock.

James pulled Jonah’s head back, “I think that’s enough for now, unless this is all you want to do tonight.”

Jonah shook his head, “I,” he started, exhaling heavily, “I’d like too,” he started again, James grabbed for his hands and pulled him to his feet. 

He pushed his forehead to Jonah’s, “Here, come one tell me.” They were close enough now that they couldn’t see each other clearly, and when either breathed their chests would touch.

“I want you to be over me on that cot, and I want you to, well, go all the way as you Americans call it.”

James was happy, but also wanted to make sure of the shorter man’s words, “You’re sure you want to do that tonight?”

A moment of silence as he felt the metal chain seering at his neck, “Yes,” he said, than again stronger, “yes.”

“Alright.” He closed the small mount of space between them, lips moulding together as they found their way to the bed, it was small but large enough for what they were about to do.

Jonah was laid down on his back, legs apart with James between them a canister of petroleum jelly in hand, gold glinting in the notch at the lower center of his neck. 

Finally the weight the now was pressing with a choking feeling to his windpipe was to much, “James, I can’t keep this one,” He said as he pulled himself part ways ups off the  _ mattress _ and ran his fingers for the clasp to his crucifix, the detailed gold  gleaming as it swung like a pendulum. He held it, unsure now where to put it  , and watched as James put the cammister down and Jonah watched as he reached to his neck and unclasped his own, took them both and put them under the cot somewhere.

“There we go, out of sight out of mind.” James said as he smiled.

“Sorry it’s just…”

“I get it. You ready?”

Jonah nodded, “Yes.”


	9. A Frog and a pint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for the update taking so long, I had a bit of a falling out with Marvel, then year 12 really got to me and the whole of the universe was uncertain. Thankfully I now have time and a clear idea for what I need to do for the plot

The pub had enough people in it, bordering on to many, a mix of Soldiers from the Air Base and the Field Base several miles on the other side of the town, along with civilians living in the town themselves, some in factory uniforms - they would be either from the parachute factory or the ration plant, or farmwear. And no shortage of girls, young and pretty, flirting with the men, preference going first to the regular soldiers, then the RAF blues and finally to the civilians. No one wants to be widowed and up the duff, but no one wants to not give the soldier every comfort possible.  
There is a noble preference to one who has enlisted the fight. But the risk of buea crashing to their death in a fiery plane crash before it’s all over is a tad to much to make them just as desirable as the groundies. Not that Darren has ever taken mind to that.  
Steve bought the first round despite Darren’s argument that she could pay for herself, Steve refused and came back with two bomber pints, “Have some fun for once,” he told her, “enjoy yourself and stop worrying for one night.”  
She drank the beer, growing more accepting of Steve’s generosity with each sip. It had, she decided been to long since she was able the relax a bit, and wholly to long since she had been about to enjoy a pint without worrying about the price and its effect to her and her families bank books, or her own.  
For some time Steve and Darren were left unnoticed in the pub, and they could simply enjoy their drink and talk, Steve had spent years without someone else who could understand his gaelic, the words close enough between the two dialects making for something oddly comforting to both.   
“Me Pa never could get it and I was the only one to get it all from Mum before Alice came along. I made sure she picked it up good though.” She said at some point through the pint.  
“What happe-”  
An arm in a dirt jacket pulled around Steve before he could finish the question, “Rogers? Thought I’d never see you again, I would have thought they’d be letting you push those putain de krauts back even more, what with saving that whole prison and all, and those guns! Merde, let me get you a pint,” Steve expression shifted from confusion to realization quickly, Darren slunk further back in the old hard wooden chair, a frenchmen. And one who seemed half out already and holing another half pint in his free hand, swinging it around as he nearly yelled in the crowded space. THe bar was smoking and smelled of many mixing liquors it was loud and Darren could feel her senses glazing over, the massive drink she found was nearly empty in front of her combined with an overload she was wholly unused to ever with the years next to planes and guns - the base hadn't ever been like this, “Junior, James look who I found,” He now fully yelled to two men sitting at the bar who also seemed quite happy to be seeing Steve again, they too came over, “And who’s this? Ill get us all a pint and we can catch up.” The frenchman sauntered off and Darren watched as he got back to the downed to last of his current pint and got 5 new ones, the men sat down and began talking to Steve. They introduced themselves, a quite young American was Jonathan - or Junior, the other James, who insisted to be called monty and said he was English - as though the poorly done tattoo visible on his arm after he took off his jacket did not state it well enough.  
Several more glasses were emptied and Darren half followed the recount of how Steve had saved them from a Nazi POW camp where they had been doing some form of experiments, and had some form of strange gun, it was all strange and it was nearly hurting her head, after the threid pint she refused a fourth and when the bar was closing and the frenchman, who was apparently named Jacques could barely stand Steve found him and Darren a ride back to the Airfield.

Through the talking an idea sparked in Steve’s mind, in the calm in the ride home he was certain of his decision. An excellent idea. The men were good and they knew what they were up against. A perfect plan really. When they got to the tent the Antler kid was gone and Bucky was beyond asleep. Both Steve and Darren could hardly find the strength to stand, and both collapsed onto their respective costs, fully dressed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see what I'm doing at fb.me/AmberKellyDarrow or on Tumblr, mel-kirkland on the blog I Want Sin!


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